With a certain degree of reluctance we prepared ourselves for a modified walk where, we hoped, it wouldn't be too bad. Ah, if only we had known.
We stroled up the lane to Calton Lees and took the left hand road to a stile. Once over we realised that we hadn't intented to come this way (waterlogged brain is my excuse) but we decided it would be good to go this way as it will be a reverse walk for us.
We could see the river a few fields away and how it had leeched out into the flood fields surrounding it creating large pools of cold grey water.
We were glad not to be crossing them - we would have needed to paddle!
It wasn't long before our slightly elevated path descended to river level, though, and by then we had reached the mud. Lots of it. Ooozy and sticky and slippery. And so much that it was impossible to avoid. This relatively short stretch of level ground took us rather longer to cross than we had thought possible.
Once the muddy path across the field was behind us we were a little better off, and when we came to the edge of the river we paused to look. I don't think either of us had seen it so high or so wide, the waters running far swifter than we were used to.
This path led us towards the village of Rowsley and for a brief period the sun came out. We turned sharpe right and started climbing uphill - at least we were on a pavement. The farm had a couple of young calves in a shelter next to the lane, and they appeared supremely unconcerned.
It didn't take long to leave the houses behind us as the lane wound upwards. We were heading for the shelter of some woods where we could eat lunch, but the woods had gone (though new saplings replanted) and the ominous gloom of rainclouds in the distance spurred us on to seek shelter.
We were lucky. Near the top of the incline, just after a left hand turn, we discovered a thick copse of conifers behind a broken fence. Gloomy and dark, but sheltered. A perfect spot.
We found an old large stump to sit on, relic of some woods before these, and enjoyed a peaceful lunch with coffee and creamy chocolate pots for pudding.
Only when we emerged, suitably replete, did we realise how fast it had been raining while we had been in shelter. No mind though, we were at the half way point and had to keep going.
The lane continued in a fairly straight line, then dipped and turned left, although the track on the right going uphill through woods was the one we wanted. And yes, it was slick with mud.
We managed the climb quite well though had to check the map a couple of times to make sure we didn't inadvertently end up following a path down to Bakewell.
As we arrived at the highest point of the woods the trees thinned, and the rain turned to lazy flakes of snow. There were pockets of snow on the ground, but the shelter the trees gave us made it feel warmer than it undoubtedly was.
We continued on the muddy path until it brought us out overlooking fields. We could see the Hunting Tower in the distance to our right. And very gloomy, snow covered hills to our left. Our path was straight on, and downhill, and - yes - muddy.
We made it to the bottom only to have to negotiate what appeared to be a large pond that had appeared at a gate above a fast flowing stream. But we were not to be deterred as we were on the home stretch now.
We skirted around a stone wall then came to a gate that led us through Calton Houses and down the track towards our start. The weather seemed to be clearing up.
That was, until we were a few hundred yards from the car park. It came down fast and hard, an absolute torrent of rain that meant we were completely soaked within a couple of minutes. We hurried as much as we could, though it clearly wasn't going to make any difference. All we could do was hurriedly make plans as we took off our bemuddied boots and clambered gratefully into the cars to head home to dry off.